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EDITED  BY 

MAUD  WILDER  GOODVIN 
ALICE  CARRINGTON  ROYCE 
RUTH  PUTNAM 


"XTbe  ifourteen  /Bbiles 
IRounb ' 

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Mrs.  FRANCES  FISHER  WOOD 

Resident  Principal 


Zhc  Itnicfterbocfser  prcsB^  'new  lOovl 


SEYMOUR  DURST 


i83 


Half  Moon  Series 


Published  in  the  Interest  of  the  New  York 
City  History  Club. 


^'THE  FOURTEEN  MILES  ROUND." 


MARY  MURDOCH  MASON. 

N  December  12,  1789,  which  was  one 


V-y  hundred  and  three  years  after  the  char- 
ter of  Governor  Dongan  had  declared  New 
York  to  be  "an  ancient  citie,"  but  was  the 
first  year  of  the  United  States  of  America, 
Franklin  Square  was  quiet  and  majestic,  as 
befitted  the  court-end  of  town.  When  the 
first  President  took  a  house  there,  there  were 
complaints  that  it  was  too  far  out  of  the  city; 
yet  thirty-seven  years  before,  William  Walton 
had  built  there  the  finest  house  in  the  Colo- 
nies. There  were  eight  windows  across  each 
upper  story  of  its  spacious  front.  Two  stately 
doorways  opened  upon  the  Square.  The 


Volume  I.    Number  VI. 


BY 


ALFRED  BISHOP  MASON 


AND 


Copyright,  i8q7,  by  Maud  Wilder  Goodwin. 


i84 

**Ubc  fourteen  /DUes  IRounC)" 

Zbc 
ifranhUn 

grounds  behind  the  house  sloped  greenly  to 
the  East  River.  The  great  merchant  was 
known  as  '*  Boss"  Walton,  the  first  recorded 
instance  in  our  history  of  that  bad  eminence. 
His  entertainments  were  so  magnificent,  his 
wines  so  rare,  his  silver  so  superb,  that  when 
the  Stamp  Tax  was  opposed  in  Parliament  on 
the  ground  of  the  poverty  of  the  colonists, 
the  feasts  at  the  Walton  House  were  cited  as 
proofs  of  colonial  wealth. 

Near  it,  at  the  northwest  corner  of  Frank- 
lin Square  and  Cherry  Street,  whence  one  of 
the  arches  of  the  Brooklyn  Bridge  now  springs, 
stood  its  rival,  the  Franklin  House,  which 
Washington  occupied  from  April  23,  1789, 
when  the  first  President  of  the  United  States 
arrived  in  New  York.  The  house,  built  'n 
1770.  was  a  mansion  of  the  solid  colonial  type. 
In  a  slight  central  projection  which  ran  from 
ground  to  roof,  a  wide  door  opened  into  a 
broad  hall.  Two  other  doors,  also  opening 
upon  Cherry  Street,  were  probably  added 
later.  The  second  story  was  amply  lighted 
by  five  windows  on  the  Cherry  Street  front, 
and  as  many  on  Franklin  Square,  the  sashes 
filled  with  the  small  square  panes  characteristic 
of  that  time.  The  third  story  repeated  the  sec- 
ond. Above  it  was  a  balustrade,  behind  which 
wprp  thp  fivf  Hnrmpr  winHnwQ  of  thp  low 
attic.  Washington  walked  thither  from  the 
foot  of  Wall  Street,  between  shouting  thou- 

. .  .  _    ._  . 

**Ube  jfourteen  /©ties  IRount)" 

185 

sands.  There  is  a  pretty  story  that,  on  that  day, 
Washington  Irving's  parents  held  him  above 
the  heads  of  the  crowd,  and  prayed  the  Presi- 
dent that  the  boy  might  bear  his  name,  and 
were  rejoiced  by  his  prompt  permission.  But 
the  scene  of  the  pretty  story  is  laid  on  Broad- 
way, which  was  untouched  by  the  proces- 
sion; and  Irving  was  born  April  3,  1783. 
Charles  Dudley  Warner  gives  a  variant  of  this 
tale  :  When  the  first  President  was  in  New- 
York,  he  says,  a  Scotch  maid-servant  of  the 
family  one  day  followed  the  hero  into  a  shop 
and  presented  the  lad  to  him.  "Please,  your 
honor,"  said  Lizzie  all  aglow,  "here 's  a  bairn 
was  named  after  you."  And  the  grave  Vir- 
ginian placed  his  hand  on  the  boy's  head  and 
gave  him  his  blessing.  But  did  the  President 
go  shopping  ? 

A  list  of  the  residences  of  public  officials  in 
1789  begins  v/ith  "George  Washington,  Es- 
quire, President  of  the  United  States  and  Com- 
mander of  the  Army  and  Navy  thereof  when 
in  actual  service  :  No.  3  Cherry  Street."  Frank- 
lin Square  was  then  St.  George's  Square,  just 
as  Broadway,  from  Vesey  Street,  north,  was 
Great  George  Street.  When  business  pushed 
northward,  the  Franklin  House  became  a 
music-store  and  a  bank  in  turn.  Then  it  fell 
to  baser  uses.  It  was  torn  down  in  1856. 
The  only  bit  of  it  known  to  exist  is  the  Presi- 
dent's chair  of  the  New  York  Historical  So- 

ton  ttving 

i86 

''JLbc  fourteen  {fbxice  Ti^ounO' 

(n  1789 

ciety,  which  is  made  of  wood  taken  from  the 
old  house.  The  Walton  House,  built  eighteen 
years  before  the  Franklin  House,  survived  it 
for  twenty-five.  It  became  a  tenement,  and 
stood  in  its  shame  until  1881.  These  are  but 
two  of  the  notable  houses  of  Cherry  Street. 
At  No.  27  the  first  American  flag  of  the  pres- 
ent style  was  made,  in  1818,  "by  Mrs.  Reid 
in  her  drawing-room."  In  1823,  at  No.  7, 
then  the  home  of  Samuel  Leggett,  president 
of  the  New  York  Gas  Light  Company,  illumin- 
ating gas  was  first  used  in  this  country.  A 
few  blocks  eastward,  at  the  corner  of  Jefferson 
Street,  stood  the  stately  mansion  of  Colonel 
Rutgers,  where  Lafayette  was  entertained  with 
splendor  in  1824,  and  where  (perhaps)  a  man 
who  shared  Washington's  heart  with  La- 
fayette, was  hung  in  1776.  Three  points  in 
New  York  compete  for  the  honor  of  the  hang- 
ing of  Nathan  Hale, — the  Rutgers  Place,  the 
Commons,  and  Beekman  Hill  at  the  foot  of 
East  51st  Street.  The  last  fragment  of  the 
Rutgers  mansion  disappeared  in  1875. 

New  York  was  a  dull  and  dirty  little  town 
in  1789.  It  was  a  city  without  a  bathroom, 
without  a  furnace,  with  bedrooms  which  in 
winter  lay  within  the  Arctic  Zone,  with  no  ice 
during  the  torrid  summers,  without  an  omni- 
bus, without  a  moustache,  without  a  match, 
without  a  latch-key.  Of  every  hundred  in- 
habitants, seven  were  slaves.     There  were 

Ube  Jfourteen  /iDiles  1Roun^  " 

187 

about  twenty-three  hundred  slaves  in  1790, 
two  hundred  and  fifty  in  1820,  and  none  when 
the  sun  rose  on  July  4,  1827,  the  Empire  State  s 
"emancipation  day."  The  streets  were  nar- 
row,— how  narrow  may  be  judged  from  the 
fact  that  both  Wall  and  Liberty,  from  Broad- 
way to  Nassau,  were  widened  in  1790  to  their 
present  petty  dimensions.  Pearl  was  so  nar- 
row that  sidewalks  were  forbidden.  A  State 
law  provided  that  people  going  north  must 
always  make  way  for  those  coming  south.  In 
May,  1788,  the  Grand  Jury  had  reported  the 
streets  "to  be  dirty  and  many  of  them  im- 
passable." Pigs  were  the  only  scavengers. 
They  ran  at  large  in  the  streets  of  New  York 
until  within  the  memory  of  many  men  now 
living.  Most  of  the  garbage  was  thrown  into 
the  streets.  A  little  of  it  went  to  the  river  at 
night  in  tubs  on  the  heads  of  slaves.  On 
December  19,  1789,  the  Daily  Advertiser 
appealed  to  the  High  Constable,  who  was 
supposed  to  do  thoroughly  what  the  pigs  did 
in  part,  in  this  moving  fashion  :  "Awake, 
THOU  SLEEPER,  let  US  have  clean  streets  in  this 
our  peaceful  seat  of  the  happiest  empire  in  the 
universe.  That  so  our  national  rulers  and  their 
supporters  may  with  convenience  and  decency 
celebrate  a  merry  Christmas  and  happy  New 
Year."  All  wood  delivered  at  store  or  house 
( there  was  no  coal )  was  sawed  and  split  on 
the  street,  after  delivery.    Street-lamps  had 

Strcetfl 

Ii 


i88 

''TLbc  Jfourtecn  /BMles  IRoimO  " 

been  introduced  in  1762  ;  but  they  were  few 
and  poor,  apt  to  go  out,  often  left  unlighted. 
In  1789,  a  citizen  asked  for  relief,  because,  as 
not  a  lamp  was  burning,  he  had  walked  into  a 
pump  on  Nassau  Street,  near  the  Mayor's 
house  ;  and  on  December  31,  1778,  the  fire- 
men formally  complained  that  they  had  been 
greatly  hindered  at  a  recent  fire  because  most 
of  the  lamps  had  gone  out. 

There  were  too  many  trees  for  health,  The 
penalty  for  planting  a  tree  south  of  Catherine 
Street,  except  in  front  of  churches  or  public 
buildings,  was  a  fine  of  jC^-  The  city  water- 
works consisted  chiefly  of  the  Tea-Water 
Pump  on  Chatham  Street  ( now  Park  Row ) 
near  Queen  (  now  Pearl ).  Water  drawn  from 
it  was  said  to  make  better  tea  than  that  from 
any  of  the  minor  pumps  or  private  wells.  The 
water  came  from  the  Collect,  where  the  public 
washed  its  dirty  linen.  Highway  robbery  was 
common.  The  newspapers  claimed  that  all 
the  footpads  came  from  Philadelphia.  This  was 
a  spiteful  saying  by  the  little  town  against  the 
big.  In  this  year  of  1789,  Tammany  Hall  was 
founded  by  William  Mooney,  an  upholsterer. 
Its  objects  were  announced  to  be  *'the  smile 
of  charity,  the  chain  of  friendship,  the  flame  of 
liberty,  and  in  general,  whatever  may  tend  to 
perprtuate  the  love  of  freedom  and  the  politi- 
cal  advantage  of  the  country."  Its  officers 
were  to  be  native-born  Americans,  but  natu- 

189 

ralized  citizens  could  become  members.  It 
was  then,  and  for  many  years  afterwards,  a 
thoroughly  respectable  society.    George  Will- 
iam Curtis,  in  one  of  his  earlier  novels,  speaks 
of  a  man's  being  a  sachem  of  Tammany  as  a 
proof  of  his  high  standing.    It  was  both  non- 
partisan and  non-predatory.     The  city  post- 
office  had  just  been  moved  from  8  Wall  Street, 
near  the  ferry,  to  62  Broadway,  at  the  corner 
of  Liberty,  and  there  was  public  complaint 
that  the  postmaster  had  not  chosen  ''some 
more  central  place."    The  post-office  receipts 
for  the  three  months  ending  January  5,  1790, 
were  $1,067.08  :  for  the  three  months  ending 
January  i,  1897,  they  were  $2, 1 12,675.07.  On 
January  i,  1790,  the  service  to  Philadelphia 
was  increased  to  five  mails  per  week  :  Jan- 
uary I,   1897,  the  Philadelphia  mails  were 
ninety-six  per  week.    There  were  then  only 
seventy-f-ve  post-offices  in  the  whole  country : 
now  there  are  seventy  thousand,  five  hundred 
and  sixty-two.    The  southernmost  was  Sa- 
vannah.   The  postage  there  from  New  York 
was  thirty-three  cents. 

There  was  but  one  theatre  in  the  city  until 
1 798.    It  stood  on  John  Street,  near  Broadway. 
Founded  in  1767,  it  was  closed  in  1774  at  the 
suggestion  of  the  Continental  Congress,  and 
stayed  shut  until  the  British  occupation,  when 
it  was  re-opened  as  the  Theatre  Royal.  In 
n^5f  against  much  violent   opposition,  its 

Po0tal 
Service 
1897 

'^Ubc  fourteen  /Dtles  'Roim&  " 

Ubc 
tlbeatre 

players  presented  "moral  lectures,"  which 
were  really  more  or  less  moral  plays.  This 
thin  disguise  was  soon  dropped.     In  1789, 
tickets  were  sold  at  the   box-office  and  at 
Gaines's  bookstore  in  Hanover  Square,  the 
Sign  of  the  Bible.    The  season  extended  this 
year  from   April    14th   to  December  15th. 
There  was  a  "  Last  Night"  December  9th,  a 
"Positively  Last  Night"  on  the  nth,  and 
really  a  last  night  on  the  15th.    During  the 
season,   sixty-one   performances   were  an- 
nounced, among  them  those  of  the  School  for 
Scandal,  She  Stoops  to  Conquer,  Richard  III, 
Merry  IVives  of  IV/ndsor,  and  The  Tempest. 
Washington  attended  on  May  nth,  June  5th, 
November  24th,  and  November  30th.  On 
November  24th  he  noted  in  his  diary  that 
he  had  invited  "Mrs.  Adams,  lady  of  the 
Vice-President,  General  Schuyler  and  lady," 
etc.     On  this  occasion  the  play  was  The 
Clandestine  Marriage.    It  is  reported  by  an 
awe-struck  reporter  that  the  President  act- 
ually laughed.    His  contemporaries,  in  trying 
to  make  him  more  than  human,  made  an 
imaginary  prig  out  of  a  very  real  man.  When- 
ever he  entered  his  box,  the  orchestra  played 
the  President's  March,  composed  by  its  leader, 
Pfyles,  first  performed  at  Trenton  on  the  tri- 
umphal journey  from  Mount  Vernon  to  New 
York,  and  known  to  every  American  since 
Judge  Hopkinson  wrote  his  verses  to  this  air. 

''Zbc  jfourteen  /iDiles  IRounb'^ 

191 

in  1 80 1,  as  Haily  Columbia  !    The  little  city 
contented  itself  with  one  public  lecture  during 
1789.    It  was  delivered  at  Aaron  Aorson's 
tavern,  on  the  Divinity  of  Jesus  Christ,  "by  a 
man  more  than  thirty  years  an  Atheist";  and 
all  the  aldermen  sold  tickets  for  it  at  twenty- 
five  cents  apiece.   There  were  not  half  a  dozen 
private  carriages  and  not  one  rubber  shoe  in 
town, — facts    which   explain  Washington's 
diary  for  November  29,  1789  :    "  Being  very 
snowy,  not  a  single  person  appeared  at  the 
Levee."    Clothes  were  too  costly  to  be  lightly 
risked.   Merchants  tempted  their  feminine  cus- 
tomers with  amens,  cordurets,  camblets,  calli- 
mancos,  casserillias,  durants,  duffils,  dowlas, 
fearnaughts,  florentines,  honey-comb  thick- 
setts,  hairbines,  lutestrings,  moreens,  osna- 
burgs,  platillas,  rattinetts,  romalls,  ribdelures, 
shalloons,  taboreens,  tammies,  ticklenburgs, 
velverets  c^nd  weldbores.   Tailors  offered  men, 
as  fashionable  colors,  bat's  wing,  mouse's  ear, 
and  drake's  head.    One  dame  of  high  degree 
wore  a  pierrot  of  gray  Indian  taffeta  with  dark 
gray  stripes;  two  collars  (one  white,  one  yel- 
low), both  trimmed  with  blue  silk  ;  a  yellow 
corset  (called  "  shapes  ")  with  large  blue  cross- 
stripes;  and  a  white  satin  hat  with  a  large 
wreath  of  artificial  roses.    A  well-known  man 
was  clad  in  a  scarlet  coat,  white  silk  waistcoat 
embroidered  with  colored  flowers,  black  satin 
breeches  with  paste  knee-buckles,  white  silk 

ifasbions 
able  S>re60 

192 

**Ubc  fourteen  Hbilcs  •Koun^  " 

TIbc  S)rlx)e 
aJeccmber 
12tb 

stockings,  low  shoes  with  large  silver  buckles, 
and  "a  small  cocked  hat  on  the  upper  part  of 
his  powdered  hair,  leaving  the  curls  at  his  ears 
displayed."  He  carried  a  gold-headed  cane 
and  gold  snuff-box,  and  is  rather  an  agree- 
able bit  of  color  against  the  gray  background 
of  the  New  York  of  1789. 

On  this  December  morning  the  door  of  the 
Franklin  House  opened,  a  liveried  servant 
stood  on  either  side,  and  the  President  of  the 
United  States,  with  Mrs.  Washington  and 
her  two  grandchildren,  entered  his  coach.  It 
was  globular,  canary-colored,  with  cupids  and 
nymphs  disporting  themselves  upon  its  panels, 
with  six  hordes  drawing  it,  sometimes  with 
liveried  outriders  trotting  before  it,  and  with  a 
couple  of  mounted  officers  following  behind  it. 
The  family  party  was  a  tulip-bed  of  bright 
hues,  the  President  not  the  least  gorgeous 
flower  of  the  four.  He  had  a  weakness  for 
velvet,  and  purple  satin  was  irresistible  to  him. 
As  the  coachman  let  the  impatient  horses 
start,  the  party  passed  along  that  part  of  Pearl 
Street,  then  called  Queen  Street,  which  had 
"grand  buildings,  four  to  six  stories  high," 
saw  Golden  Hill  on  John  Street,  where  the 
first  blood  of  the  Revolution  was  shed,  two 
months  before  the  Boston  Massacre  and  five 
years  before  Lexington,  and  turned  westward 
on  Wall  Street.  This  was  the  fashionable 
promenade,  "more  elegant"  than  Broadway, 

**Zloc  fourteen  mice  IRount)" 

193 

though  that  was  also  much  favored  of  fashion, 
chiefly  for  driving,  fronn  the  Battery  even  as 
far  north  as  St.  Paul's,  where  the  sidewalk  and 
the  name  of  the  street  both  ended.  They 
passed  the  residence  of  General  John  Lamb, 
first  Collector  of  the  Port,  who,  to  the  day  of 
his  death,  kept  open  house  for  every  soldier 
of  the  Revolution,  and  never  forgave  a  Tory. 
Up  and  down  William  Street,  then  called 
Smith,  where  it  crossed  Wall,  they  looked  to 
right  and  left  upon  the  dry-goods  shops  where 
the  feminine  half  of  New  York's  thirty  thou- 
sand people  bought  garments  equally  strange 
to  their  great-grand-daughters  in  shape  and 
stuff,  in  color  and  name.    On  the  corner  of 
Wall  and   Broad  Streets  dwelt  Alexander 
Hamilton.    A  few  doors  away,  on  Nassau 
Street,  was  his  rival  and  slayer,  Aaron  Burr, 
who  lived  up — and  down — to  the  code  of  his 
time.  Hi  V  house  was  hidden  by  Federal  Hall, — 
a  structure  on  arches,  built  in  1699  as  a  city 
hall,  converted  at  a  cost  of  $32,000  (raised  by 
private  subscription)  into  a  Capitol,  and  given 
by  the  city  to  the  nation  when  the  nation  was 
born.    It  has  left  one  permanent  trace  on  the 
map  of  the  city,  the  jog  in  the  sidewalk  at  the 
northwest  corner  of  Wall  and  Nassau  Streets. 
The  building  extended  from  the  east  line  of 
the  present  assay  office  to  the  west  line  of 
Nassau  Street.    This  jog  is  the  place  then  left 
for  a  passage  around  it.    The  architect  who 

Street 

194 

''TLbc  Jfourteen  /iDiles  IRounO  " 

federal 
1812 

transformed  the  building  was  Major  Peter 
Charles  L'Enfant,  who  designed  the  City  of 
Washington  and  the  medal  of  the  Order  of 
the  Cincinnati.  The  Common  Council  voted 
to  pay  him  by  giving  him  ten  acres  of  land 
where  the  Third  Avenue  and  Sixty-eighth 
Street  now  are  ;  but  he  declined  the  trifling 
gift,  probably  for  the  same  reason  which  led 
the  Lutheran  Church,  years  afterwards,  to  re- 
fuse a  donation  of  six  acres  on  Canal  Street, 
near  Broadway.  The  Church  records  say  the 
land  was  "not  worth  fencing."  Federal  Hall 
was  sold  in  1812  ( to  be  torn  down )  for  $42^. 
In  1790  and  1791,  the  city  repaid  the  private 
subscriptions  and  recouped  its  own  expendi- 
tures by  a  special  tax  of  $32,000  and  two 
lotteries  which  produced  as  much  more.  The 
drawing  of  the  first  lottery  went  on  for  thirty 
days,  and  of  the  second  for  twenty-three,  so 
that  the  ticket-holders  had  plenty  of  excite- 
ment for  their  money. 

Nassau  Street  was  opened  in  1696,  when 
the  city  granted  Teunis  de  Kay's  petition  for 
leave  to  make  a  cartway  through  *'the  street 
that  runs  by  the  pie-woman's,  leading  to  the 
commons,"  and  gave  him  much  of  the  land 
along  it  for  his  labor.  Federal  Hall  looked 
down  Broad  Street,  past  the  corner  of  the 
present  Exchange  Place,  where  the  first  ex- 
change was  established  in  March,  1670.  The 
merchants  met  every  Friday  morning,  between 

**Ubc  ffourteen  /IDtles  IRounD'' 

195 

eleven  and  twelve,  "at  the  bridge  which 
crossed  the  ditch  at  Broad  Street " ;  and  Gover- 
nor Lovelace  bade  the  Mayor  see  to  it  that 
during  that  hour  boys  should  not  coast  down 
the  hill  from  Broadway  and  make  havoc  with 
mercantile  legs  and  feelings.  Farther  south 
was  the  mansion  whence  Philip  Livingston 
was  buried  in  1749,  when  all  the  houses  in  the 
block  were  thrown  open,  and  when  each  of 
the  eight  bearers  was  given  gloves,  scarf, 
handkerchief,  a  mourning  ring,  and  a  monkey- 
spoon.  Still  farther  south  was  and  is  the  old 
home  of  Etienne  de  Lancey,  then  and  now 
Fraunces  Tavern,  then  kept  by  "  Black  Sam  " 
Fraunce  or  Fraunces  ( authorities  differ,  and 
Black  Sam  himself  probably  did  not  know), 
where  Washington  had  his  headquarters  in 
1776,  and  where,  in  1783,  his  famous  farewell 
to  his  generals  etched  itself  into  history. 

As  the  carriage  turned  from  Wall  Street  into 
Broadway,  the  children  on  the  front  seat  may 
have  caught  a  glimpse  of  the  Bowling  Green, 
the  heart  of  old  New  York,  the  centre  of  pop- 
ular sports  and  popular  riots  since  New  Am- 
sterdam was  born.  The  iron  railings  now 
about  it  surrounded  it  then.  They  were  im- 
ported from  England  in  1771,  and  they  pro- 
tected a  noble  lead  statue  of  King  George  111. 
on  his  horse.  Said  a  stout-hearted  merchant 
in  1776,  ''The  British  shall  have  melted  ma- 
jesty fired  at  them,"  whereupon  a  respect- 

(Breen 

196 

''Zbc  fourteen  /IDilcB  ^Roun^  " 

aburcb 

able  mob  tore  down  the  statue,  which  was 
melted  into  bullets,  and  duly  fired  at  the  King's 
soldiers.  The  rails  are  said  to  have  had  above 
them  the  heads  of  other  members  of  the  royal 
family,  which  were  knocked  off  when  Geor- 
gius  Rex  was  knocked  down ;  and  it  is  further 
said  that  "evidences  of  the  fracture  are  yet 
visible."  Seekers  after  these  evidences  should 
carry  to  Bowling  Green  sharp  eyes,  plenty  of 
faith,  and  a  fund  of  historic  imagination.  The 
mob  of  1776,  like  Tam  O'Shanter's  witch,  tore 
out  the  horse's  tail.  It  is  now  one  of  the 
treasures  in  the  almost  unknown  collection  of 
the  Historical  Society. 

The  ruins  of  Trinity  frowned  upon  the 
Presidential  party;  but  masons  and  carpenters 
were  hard  at  work  there  upon  the  new  build- 
ing, the  immediate  predecessor  of  the  present 
one.  It  was  consecrated  in  1790,  and  pro- 
vided the  President  with  a  canopied  pew, 
which  he  occupied  from  February,  1791,  when 
he  left  Franklin  Square  for  the  McComb  man- 
sion at  39  Broadway,  and  St.  Paul's  for  Trinity. 
The  McComb  mansion,  some  sixty  feet  broad 
and  four  stories  high,  with  grounds  running 
back  to  the  North  River  (the  shore-line  was 
where  Greenwich  Street  now  crouches  under 
the  elevated  railroad)  was  rented  to  him  for 
$2,500.  One  of  the  forgotten  graves  in  Trin- 
ity churchyard  is  that  of  Mrs.  Clarke,  wife  of 
Lieutenant-Governor  George  Clarke.  She  died 

1 

*'Ubc  fourteen  ^iles  IRounD" 

197 

in  1740,  an  embodiment  of  Raskin's  phrase: 
"  Lady  means  '  bread-giver '  or  "loaf-giver.'" 
Her  gracious  memory  is  embalmed  in  the 
records  of  the  corporation,  which  voted,  that, 
as  it  was  "a.  pleasure  to  her  in  life  to  feed  the 
hungry,  a  loaf  of  bread  should  be  given  to 
every  poor  person  who  would  receive  it," — a 
bit  of  heartfelt  simplicity  which  sounds  better 
than  the  preamble  of  a  bumptious  little  law 
passed  by  the  same  body  in  1732,  creating 
the  first  free  school:  "Whereas,  the  youth 
of  this  colony  are  found  by  manifold  experi- 
ence to  be  not  inferior  in  their  natural  geniuses 
to  the  youth  of  any  other  country  in  the 
world,  therefore,"  etc. 

Just  beyond  Trinity,  where  the  Boreel  Build- 
ing (115  Broadway)  now  stands,  was  the  fa- 
mous City  Tavern,  once  the  James  de  Lancey 
residence,  with  its  shady  grounds  sloping  to 
the  Hudson,  and  its  broad  piazzas  crowded 
with  people  to  see  the  President  pass  by. 
Here  the  merchants  of  New  York  met,  Octo- 
ber 31,  177^,  and  put  two  hundred  bold 
signatures  at  the  foot  of  a  non-importation 
agreement, — New  York's  ringing  reply  to  the 
Stamp  Act.  Here  was  the  favorite  lounging 
place  of  the  British  officers  during  the  Revolu- 
tion, partly  because  good  liquor  was  to  be 
had,  and  partly  because  pretty  women  were 
to  be  seen  on  "the  Mali,"  the  sidewalk  in 
front  of  Trinity.    It  must  have  been  a  small 

TZbc  Cits 
Uavcrn 
1775 

i9« 

''Ubc  jFourteen  /HMles  IRounC)" 

society  which  strutted  its  brief  day  then  and 
there;  for  even  in  1789,  when  the  town,  after 
being  half  ruined  by  the  Revolution,  had 
doubled  its  population  and  its  house-rents, 
only  three  hundred  persons  were  "in  soci- 
ety." It  took  a  hundred  years  to  add  a  hun- 
dred men  and  women  to  the  list.  In  the  City 
Hotel,  built  on  this  site  in  1793,  Washington 
Irving  was  welcomed  back  to  America  at  a 
great  dinner  in  1832. 

The  President  drove  by  the  Market-house  in 
Broadway,  opposite  Liberty  Street,  the  up- 
town market,  forty-two  by  twenty-five  feet, 
where  the  aristocrats,  living  on  the  west  side 
of  Broadway,  went  every  morning  and  filled 
the  baskets  carried  by  their  black  slaves.  Dr. 
John  Bard,  the  leading  physician  of  the  time, 
in  a  paper  extolling  the  healthfulness  of  the 
city,  wrote  of  the  people  "on  the  west  side 
of  the  Broadway  "  as  enjoying  "  fragrant 
odours  from  the  apple-orchards  and  buck- 
wheat fields  in  bloom  on  the  pleasant  banks 
of  the  Jersey  shore  in  view  of  their  delightful 
dwellings."  Dr.  Bard's  son,  meanwhile,  had 
had  Washington  as  a  much-suffering  patient 
for  several  weeks  that  summer.  He  seems  to 
have  been  generally  repaired  at  the  same  time; 
for  John  Greenwood,  dentist,  of  56  William 
Street,  made  him  a  full  set  of  "sea-horse 
teeth,  '  and  told  somebody,  who  told  every- 
body else,  that  the  great  man  had  but  a  single 

**Uloc  ifourteen  /IDiles  1Roun^  " 

199 

tooth  of  his  own.  It  was  a  hard  summer. 
In  one  week  there  had  been  twenty  deaths 
from  heat  (equal  to  eleven  hundred  deaths  for 
the  present  population).  A  newspaper  saga- 
ciously said,  "Raw  rum  has  been  found  ex- 
ceedingly pernicious  in  this  extreme  heat." 
There  was  certainly  plenty  of  choice  in  the 
way  of  drink.  The  President's  table  was  sup- 
plied (through  his  steward,  Sam  Fraunces) 
with  madeira,  claret,  champagne,  sherry,  ar- 
rack, spirits,  brandy,  cordials,  porter,  beer, 
and  cider.  There  seems  to  have  been  little 
indecorous  intoxication.  Haswell,  in  his  Remi- 
niscences of  an  Octogenarian,  says  that  as  late 
as  1816  "American  whiskey  was  not  known 
as  a  general  drink,  and  mint-juleps  were  only 
heard  of  as  a  mixture  said  to  be  taken  by 
people  in  the  Southern  States  as  a  preventive 
against  malaria."  But  Dayton,  in  his  delight- 
ful Last  Days  of  Knickerbocker  Life  in  New 
York,  describes  the  "substantial  citizens"  of 
1830  as  sitting  on  the  flat  roof  of  Rabineau's 
swimming-bath,  by  the  Battery,  every  after- 
noon, enjoying  their  mint-juleps  and  sherry- 
cobblers.  Haswell  returns  to  the  charge,  and 
says  that  in  1823  "American  whiskey  was 
wholly  unknown  north  of  Baltimore." 

At  the  calaboose  on  the  common,  the  city 
maintained  an  official  who  whipped  a  servant, 
whether  free  or  slave,  for  his  master,  and 
charged  one  shilling  for  a  thorough  job.  It 

Summer 

200 

''Zbc  Jfourtecu  /IDiles  IRounC)  " 

Sorts 
Qigbti 

was  a  cruel  age, — as  cruel  to  petty  criminals 
as  we  have  been  to  our  pauper  insane,  up  to 
two  years  ago.  Master  Custis  and  Miss  Custis 
may  have  peeped  out  of  the  front  seat  of 
their  grandfather's  carriage  at  sundry  persons 
branded  T  on  the  left  cheek  near  the  nose,  in 
token  of  conviction  for  petty  thievery.  Only 
a  few  years  before,  Mrs.  Johanna  Young  *'and 
another  lady,"  convicted  of  grand  larceny, 
were  paraded  around  town  in  a  cart,  then 
stripped  to  the  waist  and  given  thirty-nine 
lashes  apiece  in  public,  then  banished, — 
whereupon  they  went  to  Philadelphia. 

Above  St.  Paul's,  Broadway  was  no  place 
for  pleasure-driving  in  1789.  So  the  Wash- 
ington carriage  turned  down  Park  Row,  then 
Chatham  Row,  with  the  green  fields  of  **the 
Commons"  on  their  left,  disfigured  by  neither 
the  Mullett  nightmare  of  to-day 's  post-office, 
nor  the  Tweed  memory  of  to-day 's  court- 
house. Instead,  there  were  the  jail  ;  the 
calaboose  or  bridewell;  the  gallows,  covered 
by  a  Chinese  kiosk,  in  order  that  the  hang- 
ings might  not  pain  the  passers-by  (there 
were  eleven  capital  crimes  then),  the  pillory, 
stocks,  and  whipping-post  in  a  little  group  of 
trees  ;  and  the  new  almshouse.  The  first 
poor-house  was  built  on  the  Commons  in 
1734,  at  which  time  also  the  minutes  of  the 
Council  show  that  "a.  convenient  place,  or 
whipping-post,"  was  provided  for  incorrigible 

**Ubc  jFourteen  fl&iles  IRounC)'' 

201 

persons.    In  1678,  the  year  of  the  famous 
Bolting  Act,  under  which  the  city  throve 
mightily  at  the  expense  of  the  province,  it  is 
recorded  that   "ministers  were  scarce  and 
religions  many,  but  there  were  no  beggars  in 
New  York  and  all  the  poor  were  cared  for." 
In  1795,  the  poor-house  had  six  hundred  and 
seventy-two  inmates,  not  counting  the  yellow- 
fever  cases.    The  jail  on  the  Commons,  built 
about  1760,  was  the  finest  public  edifice  of  its 
day.    It  was  a  torture-chamber  for  patriot  pri- 
soners during  the  Revolution.    Thereafter,  as 
a  debtor's  prison,  it  became  the  most  popular 
public  edifice  of  its  day;  for  from  January  2d 
to  December  3d  of  1788,  eleven  hundred  and 
sixty-two  persons,  one  out  of  every  twenty- 
five  citizens,  were  jailed  there  for  debt.  Even 
in  our  day,  when  it  is  used  as  the  Hall  of 
Records,  is  neglected  and  dingy,  and  is  said  to 
have  recorded  within  it  all  the  smells  of  the 
Island  from  the  Dutch  days  down,  it  is  still 
beautiful.    It  has  a  right  to  be,  for  it  is  a  re- 
production in  miniature  of  the  great  fane  of 
Diana  of  Ephesus.    On  November  26th  the 
President  had  given  fifty  guineas  to  the  Society 
for  the  Relief  of  Distressed  Debtors.  The 
prisoners  published  a  card  of  thanks.  The 
Society  thereupon  announced  that  this  was  all 
wrong,  because  it  had  agreed  not  to  tell  who 
gave  the  money.     Such  secrets  are  better 
kept  in  New  York  to-day.    Any  one  who  has 

Ube 
debtors' 
|pci0on 

202 

''XEbe  fourteen  /MMles  IRount)" 

Ubc 
Collect 

to  do  with  our  charities  knows  how  m;iny 
people  here  "do  good  by  stealth.  " 

Now  the  carriage  rolls  on,  past  the  Collect, 
or  Fresh  Water  Pond,  recommended  for  a 
water-supply  in  1790,  but  rejected  as  being 
too  far  from  town,   where  the  Indians  left 
shell-mounds  after  their  clam  and  oyster  feasts ; 
where  New  York  used  to  skate  ;  where  Fitz 
Greene  Halleck  s  father  saved  the  Duke  of 
Clarence,  afterwards  William  IV.,  from  drown- 
ing when  that  gay  midshipman  was  visiting 
Admiral  Digby,  quartered  in  a  "rebel  man- 
sion" on  Hanover  Square  ;  where  John  Fitch 
exhibitedthe  first  practicable  steamboat  in  1 796 ; 
where  the  Tombs  now  stands,    it  rolled  up 
the  Bowery  Lane, — to  the  right  the  three  Stuy- 
vesant  houses  and  the  famous  old  Governor's 
pear-orchard,  whereof  men  of  to-day  have 
seen  the  last  tree,  at  the  northeast  corner  of 
Third  Avenue  and  Thirteenth  Street  ;  to  the 
left,  in  the  distance,  the  gentle  slope  of  Rich- 
mond Hill,  where  Varick  Street  now  crosses 
Charlton  in  poverty-stricken  flatness  and  ugli- 
ness.   The  Richmond  Hill  mansion  was  a 
centre  of  history.    It  was  built  by  Abraham 
Mortier,  paymaster  of  his  Majesty's  forces  in 
America,  about  1760.    In  1789,  Vice-President 
Adams  lived  there.    His  delightful  wife  wrote 
of  it  :   "In  natural  beauty  it  might  vie  with 
the  most  delicious  spot  I  ever  saw.    It  is  a 
mile  and  a  half  distant  from  the  city  of  New 
i                             .  . 

''JLbc  fourteen  jflDtles  •KounC)  ' 

203 

York.    .    .    .    Upon  my  right  hand  are  fields 
beautifully  variegated  with  grass  and  grain. 
.    .    .    Upon  my  left  the  city  opens  to  view, 
intercepted  here  and  there  by  rising  ground 
and  an  ancient  oak.    .    .    .    Venerable  oaks 
and  broken  ground  covered   with  shrubs 
surround  us,  giving  a  natural  beauty  to  the 
spot  which  is  truly  enchanting.     A  lovely 
variety  of  birds  serenade  me  morning  and 
evening,  rejoicing  in  their  liberty  and  secu- 
rity." Here,  in  1776,  after  the  victorious  defeat 
on  Long  Island,  Washington  had  his  peri- 
patetic headquarters  for  several  days.  Here, 
Nathan  Hale  was  sent  out  on  the  mission 
which  ended  in  his  trial  in  the  greenhouse  of 
the  Beekman  mansion  at  the  foot  of  East  51st 
Street,  in  his  ignominious  death  at  dawn 
on  the  gallows,  and  in  his  statue  in  City  Hall 
Park,  looking  calmly  down  upon  the  roar  of 
Broadway.    Here,  Aaron  Burr,  also  Vice-Presi- 
dent of  the  United  States,  lived.    From  Rich- 
mond Hill,  in  the  early  morning  of  July  11, 
1804,  he  started  for  Weehawken  to  kill  Alex- 
ander Hamilton,  and  here  he  returned  to  break- 
fast, that  deed  done  and  himself  undone. 
Hamilton  started  that  morning  from  his  coun- 
try-seat,  The  Grange,"  still  standing  near  One 
Hundred  and  Forty-fifth  Street,  opposite  the 
group  of  thirteen  gum-trees  which  he  planted 
as  a  symbol  of  the  thirteen  States.  When 
Burr  fled  from  the  city,  a  bankrupt,  his  cred- 

1R^cbmon^ 

•bin 

i 

2C4 

x:bc 
pottcc'e 

itors  seized  his  sixty-two-year  leasehold  estate 
in  Richmond  Hill,  and  John  Jacob  Astor  paid 
$2^,000  for  it.    The  house  stood  a  hundred 
feet  above  the  present  level,  but  a  tiny  bit  of 
its  ancient  garden  still  survives.    A  bit  of  the 
house  itself  survived  until  1849. 

In  this  December  of  1789,  Washington  may 
have  pointed  out  in  the  distance,  to  his  wife 
and  the  children,  the  meadow  which  the  city 
had  just  decided  to  buy  for  a  potter's  field  ; 
which  became  six  years  afterwards,  under  the 
stress  of  yellow-fever,  a  burial-place  for  rich 
and  poor  alike  and  which  thereafter  became 
Washington  Square.     It  and  Union  Square 
and  Madison  Square  and  Bryant  Park  were  all 
potter's  fields  in  turn,  and  all  thus  saved  as 
open  spaces  to  become  centres  of  fashion  in 
turn.    South  of  Union  Square,  on  the  old 
Bowery,  now   Fourth   Avenue,   the  coach 
passed  the  famous  estate   "Minto,"  owned 
by  a  baron  whose  many  names  ended  with 
Poelnitz.  Washington  had  already  visited  it  in 
May,  and  had  ordered  sent  to  Mount  Vernon 
one  of  Poelnitz's  numerous  inventions,  a  horse- 
hoe  for  weeding  vegetables.    "  Minto  "  was 
advertised  for  sale  in  1789  as  about  two  miles 
from  the  city,  with  a  great  variety  of  the 
choicest  fruit-trees  and  flowering  shrubs  and 
with  the  richest  soil  on  Manhattan  Island.  It 
afterwards  became  the  Randell  Farm,  and  now 
belongs  to  the  Sailors'  Snug  Harbor.  The 

**Ubc  fourteen  /iDUes  IRount)  '' 

205 

rich  soil  still  continues  to  produce.  Ground- 
rents  grow  all  over  it  in  abundance.  The 
statue  of  Washington  in  Union  Square  stands 
about  where  New  York,  delivered  at  last 
from  its  British  garrison,  welcomed  its  de- 
liverer November  25,  1785.  He  had  slept  the 
night  before  at  the  Van  Cortlandt  Manor- 
house,  built  in  1748,  still  standing  in  strength 
and  beauty  at  the  southern  end  of  Van  Cort- 
landt Park. 

At  what  is  now  the  northeast  corner  of 
Broadway  and  Twenty-third  Street,  the  old 
Boston  road  left  the  Bloomingdale  road,  and  ran 
northeast  across  Madison  Square.  The  car- 
riage turned  to  the  right,  and  was  soon  round- 
ing the  eastern  slopes  of  Murray  Hill.  At  what 
is  now  Thirty-sixth  Street  and  Park  Avenue 
stood  "Inclenberg,"  the  country-seat  of 
Robert  Murray,  the  birthplace  of  his  son  Lind- 
ley  Murray,  the  house  where  Mrs.  Murray 's 
wit  and  Mr.  Murray 's  wine  saved  Putnam 's 
army  from  destruction.  It  was  September  15, 
1776.  The  Americans,  retreating  from  Long 
Island,  were  marching  northward  to  Bleecker 
Street,  when  the  victorious  English,  marching 
westward,  reached  "  Inclenberg."  They  had 
the  ragged  Continentals  in  a  trap.  But  while 
they  tarried  at  Mrs.  Murray 's  table,  Aaron  Burr 
led  Putnam 's  weary  troops  by  leafy  lanes,  hid- 
den from  the  ships-of-war  on  the  Hudson  and 
the  men  of  war  on  Murray  Hill,  safely  to  Broad- 

Ynclenbera 
1776 

2o6 

^'TLbc  jfourteeu  mWcQ  IRoimC)  " 

Zbc 
jBeeliman 
/Daneion 

way  and  Forty-third  Street,  where  Washing- 
ton met  them,  galloping  down  from  his  head- 
quarters at  the  Apthorpe  house.  The  Murray 
house  was  burned  in  183^,  sixteen  years  be- 
fore the  destruction  of  the  then  oldest  house 
on  the  Island, — The  Kip  mansion,  at  the  corner 
of  Second  Avenue  and  Thirty-fifth  Street.  It 
was  built  in  165s  by  Jacob  Kip,  and  torn 
down  in  185 1  by  some  unknown  person  who 
should  have  known  better,  and,  if  he  had, 
would  have  been  better  known  himself.  In 
Washington's  time  this  region  was  called 
Kipsborough. 

Now,  on  his  peaceful  journey,  the  President 
passed  the  Beekman  mansion,  and  must  have 
felt  the  shadow  of  Hale's  death  upon  his 
soul,  for  Hale  was  his  friend  as  well  as  his 
aide.  He  was  accused  of  sacrificing  Andre 
to  Hale's  memory,  but  Andre's  gibbet  casts 
no  shadow  across  Washington  *s  fame. 
Andre  started  from  the  Beekman  house  on 
the  journey  after  glory  which  led  him  to  the 
gallows.  The  roof  that  sheltered  him  then 
survived  him  nearly  a  century, — until  1874. 
Another  roof-tree  of  that  time  still  stands  near 
by.  At  the  foot  of  East  6ist  Street,  in 
a  wilderness  of  gas-works  and  stone-yards 
and  tenement-houses  and  garbage-dumps,  is 
the  fine  old  stone  residence  of  Colonel  William 
S.  Smith,  who  built  the  house  about  1770, 
who   married   the  only   daughter  of  John 

*'Ubc  fourteen  /IDUes  IRounD'' 

207 

Adams,  and  who  ruined  himself  by  specula- 
ting in  East  River  property  a  century  too  soon. 

A  mile  beyond,  at  Seventy-seventh  Street, 
was  the  Kissing  Bridge,  where  the  President, 
who  was  ever  a  stickler  for  the  rigid  observance 
of  laws  and  customs,  must  have  preserved  his 
reputation  by  kissing  Mrs.  Washington  and  by 
making  Master  Custis  permit  his  sister  to  kiss 
him.  (Janvier  declares  that  the  original  Kiss- 
ing Bridge  was  in  Chatham  Street,  and  quotes 
the  Rev.  Mr.  Burnaby's  journal  of  1740  as  say- 
ing that  here  "it  is  customary,  before  passing 
beyond,  to  salute  the  lady  who  is  your  com- 
panion,"— a  custom  which  was  ''curious,  yet 
not  displeasing.")  A  few  rods  farther  the 
carriage  turns  to  the  west,  plunges  down  and 
up  some  leafy  hillsides  through  McGowan's 
Pass,  and  reaches  the  Bloomingdale  road, 
passing  north  of  the  Apthorpe  house,  which 
stood  ur4il  1892  at  (about)  Ninety-first  Street. 
Washington  dined  there  September  21,  1776, 
and  supped  that  night  at  the  deserted  house 
of  Colonel  Roger  Morris,  Tory,  and  husband 
of  Mary  Philipse,  who  listened  to  Washington's 
wooing  in  1770  at  the  Philipse  manor-house, 
now  the  beautiful  City  Hall  of  Yonkers,  and 
perhaps  said  him  nay.  The  Morris  house, 
confiscated  after  the  Revolution,  bought  by 
John  JiKob  Astor,  sold  by  him  to  Stephen 
Jumel,  whose  eccentric  widow  married  Aaron 
Burr  and  speedily  thrust  him  out  of  her 

Zbc 

208 

''XTbe  ifourteeu  /HMles  IRounO  " 

Xlbe 
"1Roun&" 

home  and  dropped  his  name,  still  stands 
on  Harlem  Heights.  Lord  Howe,  on  the 
evening  of  that  September  day,  fixed  his 
headquarters  at  the  Apthorpe  house,  and  ate 
the  supper  cooked  for  the  Rebel  general.  The 
last  appearance  of  the  Apthorpe  mansion  in 
history  was  on  July  12,  1870,  when  the 
Orangemen  held  a  picnic  there,  and  after- 
wards fought  the  battle  of  the  Boyne  over 
again  in  the  streets  of  New  York. 

Southward  on  Bloomingdale  road,  through 
a  park-like  region  studded  with  villas,  the 
carriage  rolled  homeward  to  the  vicinity  of 
Twenty-third  Street,  and  so  down  the  Bowery 
to  Franklin  Square  and  Cherry  Street,  in  time 
for  the  four  o'clock  dinner. 

That  evening  the  President  wrote  in  his  note- 
book that  he  ''exercised  with  Mrs.  Washing- 
ton and  the  children  in  the  coach  between 
breakfast  and  dinner,— went  the  fourteen 
miles  round." 

1baIf:=fTDoon  Series 

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Bmong  tbe  subjects  of  tbe  papers 
will  be  tbe  following : 

(now  ready,  march  31,  1897) 


I.  ^Tbe  ?taDt  Ibuss  of  View 
BmsterDanu 

By  Alice  Morse  Earle. 

II.  Icing's  College* 

By  John  Pine. 

III.  Bnnetje  5an3'  yarm. 

By  Ruth  Putnam. 

IV.  mall  street. 

By  Oswald  Garrison 

Villard. 

V.  (Sovernor's  fslanO. 

By  Blanche  Wilder 

Bellamy. 


to  be  followed  by  : 

^Cbe  fourteen  /iBiles  "KounD. 

By  Alfred  Bishop  Mason 
and  Mary  Murdoch  Mason. 

®  IDHmells  anO  HClater  Courses. 

By  George  E.  Waring,  Jr. 

©ID  (3reenwicb. 

By  Elizabeth  Bisland. 

^be  ^Sowers. 

By  Edward  Ringwood 
Hewitt  and  Mary  Ashley 
Hewitt. 

^'inances  of  ©ID  IWew  l^orft. 

By  C.  Dana  Durand. 
etc.,  etc. 


Books  and  Their  Makers 
During  the  Middle  Ages 

A  Study  of  the  Conditions  of  the  Production  and  Diatribu* 
tioa  of  Literature  from  the  Fall  of  the  Roman  Empire  to 
the  Close  of  the  Seventeenth  Century. 

By  GEO.  HAVEN  PUTNAM,  A.M. 

Author  of  "  Authors  and  Their  Public  in  Ancient  Tini'?s,"  "  Th.; 
Question  of  Copyright,"  etc.,  etc. 

In  two  volumes,  sold  separately.    8  ,  gilt  tops,  each  .       .  $2.50 

Volume  I.  476-1600. 

PART  I. — BOOKS  IN  MANUSCRIPT. 
I.— The  Making  of  Books  in  the  Monasteries. 

Introductory. — Cassiodorus  and  S.  Benedict. — The  E.irlicr  Monkish  Scrilies. — 
The  Ecclcsi.istical  Schools  and  the  Clerics  a.s  Scribes. — Terms  Used  for  Scribe 
Work.—S.  Columba,  the  Apostle  to  C.Tiedonia.  — Nuns  as  Scribes. — Monkish 
Chroniclers,— The  Work  of  the  Scriptorium. — The  Influence  of  the  Scriptorium. — 
The  Literary  Monks  of  England.— The  Earlier  Monastery  Schools. — The  Bene- 
dictines of  tne  Continent.  — The  Libraries  of  the  Monasteries  and  their  Arrangfr- 
menls  for  the  Exchange  of  Books. 

II.— Some  Libraries  of  the  Manuscript  Period. 

III.  — The  Making  of  Books  in  the  Early  Universities. 

IV.  — The  Book-Trade  in  the  Manuscript  Period, 

Italy. — Books  in  Spain, — The  Manuscript  Trade  in  France. — Manuscript 
Dealers  in  Germany. 

PART  IL— THK  F.ARMRR  PRINTED  DOOKS. 
I. — The  Renaissance  as  the  Forerunner  of  the  Printing-Press. 
II.— The  Invention  of  Printing  and  the  Work  of  the  First  Printers 
of  Holland  and  Germany. 

III.  — The  Printer-Publishers  of  Italy. 

Volume  II.  1500-1709. 

IV.  — The  Printer-Publishers  of  France, 
v.— The  Later  Esticnnes  and  Casaubon. 

VI.— Caxton  and  the  Introduction  of  Printing  into  England. 
VII.— The  Kobergers  of  Nuremberg. 
VIII.— Froben  of  Basel. 

IX. — Erasmus  and  his  Books. 

X,— Luther  as  an  Author. 
XL— Plantin  of  Antwerp. 
XII.— The  Elzevirs  of  Leyden  and  Amsterdam. 

XIII.  — Italy  :  Privileges  and  Censorship. 

XIV.  — Germany  :  Privileges  and  Book-Trade  Regulations. 
XV. — France  :  Privileges,  Censorship,  and  Legislation. 

XVI.— England  :  Privileges,  Censorship,  and  Legislation. 
XVII. — Conclusion :  The  Development  of  the  Conception  of  Literary 
Property. 

G.  P.  PUTNAM'S  SONS 
New  York  :  29  West  23d  St.  London  :  24  Bedford  St.,  Strand 


The  City  History  Club 
of  New  Yoric 

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interest  in  the  history  and  traditions  of  New  York, 
believing  that  such  interest  is  one  of  the  surest 
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Secretary  City  History  Club, 

II  West  50th  Street, 

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THE  HALF-MOON  SERIES 
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